


Common Ground

by Rocky_T



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 21:22:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rocky_T/pseuds/Rocky_T
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chakotay evaluates a new recruit for the Maquis. Set in the reboot TOS universe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Common Ground

**Author's Note:**

> An answer to a 2010 challenge to write a VOY story set in the reboot universe.

Chakotay tried not to stare, but couldn't help himself. He had never seen a Vulcan before.

Despite his best efforts, he found himself unabashedly scrutinizing the man standing before him in the rundown shelter they'd designated as their temporary headquarters on this godforsaken moon. Chakotay noted the upward slant of the eyebrows, the elongated ears coming to a delicate point--features clearly designating the man as an alien, The Other. The dark brown skin, at least, was similar to that found among many Terrans. And Vulcans appeared to lack the shallow but definite forehead ridge common to their distant relatives, the Romulans.

The Romulans were the Vulcans' distant relatives, yes. And the Romulans were also (at least, the individuals responsible belonged to that particular species) the perpetrators of the near-total Vulcan genocide a little more than a century ago.

Chakotay forced himself to focus once more on the matter at hand. The man, member of an esoteric species or not, was a potential recruit, and Chakotay needed to evaluate him to see if had any valuable skills that would benefit the Maquis.

Normally, Chakotay had a whole litany of questions to ask in this situation, designed to weed out any possible infiltrators. But now he suddenly found himself at a loss for words. He fleetingly wondered if it really mattered. The recruit—he'd said his name was Tuvok-- had been brought in by Kurt Bendera, Chakotay's shrewd and intensely loyal second-in-command. Kurt was difficult to fool; if he said someone was on the level, that always turned out to be the case. Surprisingly, even Seska, a Bajoran who had suffered first-hand under the Cardassian occupation of her world and was much less trusting as a result, had advocated accepting this Tuvok, sight unseen. But Chakotay still had a job to do.

Tuvok's credentials _were_ impeccable, Chakotay thought as he scanned the crumpled scrap of paper on the tabletop, which contained Kurt's dossier on the Vulcan. Engineering background, educational instructor, former member of Starfleet…Chakotay did a double-take at that last item. He had never heard of a Vulcan serving in Starfleet. But there were so few Vulcans living today that encountering one under any circumstances was highly unusual. He grimaced. Basically, all his knowledge of Vulcans could be summed up as follows: they were an insular people, who rarely ventured forth from the colony world they'd established after the destruction of their homeworld. And they were said to have no emotions.

Tuvok had been waiting patiently all this time. Perhaps detecting a shift in Chakotay's demeanor, the Vulcan broke the silence. "Is there anything else you wish to know, sir? Anything I can do to alleviate the doubts you may harbor about me."

Suspicion, warranted or not, was the single most important thing which had kept Chakotay and the other members of his cell alive until now. He had no intention of apologizing for his attitude, nor did he think Tuvok expected him to. Instead, it was the "sir" that caught Chakotay's attention, as it appeared to indicate the Vulcan's military background.

"Starfleet?" Chakotay said.

"Yes," Tuvok said, and then clearly realized a fuller reply was required. "I entered Starfleet Academy in 2289. Upon graduating four years later, I was assigned to the USS Excelsior, under Captain Hikaru Sulu. Upon the completion of our initial tour of duty, I resigned my commission and returned home, to Nova."

The year 2289? Chakotay inhaled sharply as he did the math. "That was 89 years ago! You must be at least…" he stumbled to a halt. 

"Vulcans," Tuvok said dryly, "are a long-lived species. Barring any unforeseen circumstances, of course, which would result in a major reduction of an individual's lifespan."

Tuvok might have been alive at the time his planet was destroyed, Chakotay realized, or else been born shortly afterward. He might even have memories of what it was like to have been a member of the most important world in the Federation--after Terra, of course--instead of one among a mere handful of survivors. Survivors who now numbered in the thousands, whereas before there had been billions.

Chakotay cleared his throat. "Yes. So you returned to Nova. You became a teacher?"

"An instructor in basic engineering principles, yes," Tuvok said. "As our population slowly increases, it is vital to insure the proper education of our young."

"Why did you return to Nova? Quit Starfleet?"

"I had not yet fulfilled First Duty."

"First Duty?" Chakotay said, puzzled.

"The First Duty of every Vulcan who survived the cataclysm is to propagate the race," Tuvok intoned, as if he was quoting something. 

They really didn't have emotions, Chakotay thought in surprise. Tuvok had not indicated by word or expression how he had felt about the near-destruction of his people, or the loss of their original world. Personal detachment was considered an asset among the Maquis. It was a detriment to feel too much; the sheer horror of loss, of the injustice they were fighting against, the feelings of desperation—they could overwhelm you if you allowed yourself to think about them too much. That was the way to madness; Chakotay unwillingly recalled what happened to Gerron, a previous recruit who had turned out to be too sensitive for his own good. But Chakotay was still unnerved at being confronted with evidence of such complete and total separation from all feeling.

"Why do you want to join the Maquis?" Chakotay said, more harshly than he intended. "To be blunt, it's not your fight."

"That is correct," Tuvok said. "It is not my fight. For nearly a century, Vulcans have withdrawn from nearly all galactic affairs."

"So why do you want to get involved? You initially approached Bendera, not the other way around."

"The Cardassians are aggressors who threaten the welfare of the entire Alpha Quadrant."

"But Starfleet signed a peace treaty, to ensure that the hostilities with the Cardassians _don't_ expand into a full-fledged war," Chakotay said, sarcastically parroting the Federation party line that had so infuriated him and the rest of the Maquis—and ultimately that misguided thinking had resulted in the decimation of the major population centers on his and so many other 'border' worlds. "Is it logical to try to undermine such a 'noble' undertaking by guerilla tactics?"

"It is not a noble undertaking. The treaty was misguided. The Federation negotiators were blinded by their own desire for peace. They were incapable of understanding, let alone detecting, the Cardassian subterfuge in signing such a treaty."

Chakotay raised an eyebrow, and nodded, indicating that Tuvok should continue.

"The Federation has not encountered any real resistance, let alone aggression, during the past century," Tuvok said. "The destruction of the Vulcan homeworld, as you may recall, also coincided with the near-total loss of the entire Klingon fleet. Any territorial ambitions on their part were quenched; the Klingons retreated and retrenched, seeking to build up their military potential, as well as overcoming the severe economic recession which developed in its wake. By the time an acceptable level of prosperity had been reached once more, there was a long-standing tradition of cooperation with the Federation. The Klingon threat had been greatly, perhaps permanently, diminished."

"What of the Romulans?" Chakotay said. "They were, after all, the ones who wreaked such destruction in the first place."

"The Romulan Empire," Tuvok said, his expression still wooden, "disavowed all knowledge of the 'rogue' individuals who caused the attacks. In an effort to prove themselves, perhaps, they have been consistently eager to embark on joint ventures with the Federation, in the areas of exploration, technology development and other peaceful endeavors."

"In other words, you're saying that when faced with a real enemy—the Cardassians--for the first time in decades, the Federation lost its nerve."

"Perhaps," said Tuvok. "I cannot judge their motivations. I can only draw conclusions based upon what I see has since transpired. The Federation made peace, and yet, how many of your civilians have been killed?"

"Touche," muttered Chakotay. Aloud, he went on, "You certainly don't have to convince me of the justice of our cause. But what I still don't understand is, why are _you_ interested? Why get involved?"

"Why not simply hide my head in the sands of Nova, like the majority of my fellow Vulcans?" For the first time, there was a faint tone of passion underlying Tuvok's words. "I should simply stand aside and watch as more and more worlds are taken over, more and more innocents are slaughtered? I should stand by like the rest of the galaxy did when Vulcan was destroyed?"

"They didn't just stand by," Chakotay objected. "Starfleet sent a number of ships to aid Vulcan. All but one of them were destroyed by the same enemy."

"Nonetheless, my world was destroyed. The sole remaining Starfleet vessel managed to rescue a mere handful of individuals. The Vulcans existent today are primarily those who were off-world at the time of destruction, or else their descendants."

"All right." Chakotay leaned forward, his hands flat, palm down, on the rickety table in front of him. "You still haven't answered my question. You've suffered, your whole people have suffered greatly. So why do you want to get involved in our fight?"

"Because," Tuvok said, "it is the logical thing to do."

"Logical?"

"For those who do not wish to see a repeat of what happened to Vulcan, yes, it is the logical thing to do."

Chakotay paused for a long moment, as he weighed what he had heard. His eyes met Tuvok's. Even as he watched, there was a flicker of emotion in their dark depths. And all at once Chakotay was convinced of the Vulcan's sincerity. _What happened to me, to my people, cannot be allowed to happen once more. Never again._

Chakotay extended his hand. "Well, Tuvok, welcome to the Maquis. In exchange for your services and technical expertise, we'll provide you with room and board—such as they are—and in the event of your death, funeral expenses as well." He smiled sardonically. "Unless, of course, such matters are already taken care of by the Cardassians—or Starfleet, as the case may be."

Tuvok's grip was surprisingly strong. "That is acceptable. I will, however, endeavor not to require a funeral." 

Chakotay glanced down at Tuvok's hand, still in the grasp of his own, and a look of understanding passed between the two men.


End file.
